Dark Wings, See Who I've Become
by Jemmz
Summary: Angsty fic focusing on what's happening to Peter in S3.


**Title:** Dark Wings (See Who I've Become)

**Fandom: **Heroes

**Characters/Pairings:** Peter (Angela, Nathan)

**Rating:** PG-13

**Word count: **826

**Warnings:** Some violence/death.

**Spoiler alert:** 3x04 and 3x05

**Summary:** Angsty fic focusing on what's happening to Peter in S3. This is my first Heroes fanfic btw. I've written fanfic before, just not for Heroes

The first time it was the uncontrollable powers, fighting their way in to him, causing him to be somebody he did not want to be. A walking time bomb. He would've been the reason for millions of deaths if it hadn't of been for his brother. And all this time it would've hung over him like an unwanted shadow. A reminder. A reminder of what he had done, that he was a killer.

He only ever wanted to help people. To save the world.

He had always been a good person, he told himself this everyday. He saved lives, not took them away. This was his life. To _save_ people. Because he had a pure heart. That's what he had been told. That he was pure, he was good. And he would save people with his abilities. To be a hero. To be _someone_.

The second time it was a new ability. A frightening one. One that he had no control over at all. This was because it was a power of _evil_, an evil he didn't have the strength to fight. This time he had no one. No one that could swoop down and save him before he did something terrible. No one could stop him. Least of all himself. He had become the one thing he never thought he would be.

The villain.

He felt nothing anymore. No guilt when he cut open the head of his brother, crimson blood pouring on to the floor and seeping in between his bare toes. Nothing. The fear turned in to something new. Curiosity. Hunger. He needed to _know_. This thing was bigger than him. And he couldn't explain how he could do something so evil to someone he loved so dearly.

Tears could only turn to anger. A frustrated cry for help came off as cold threats. _You did this to me. _As the twisted smile of the man in front of him grew his hatred only grew with it. And the words that slipped from his icy lips only darkened further who he once had been. _Brother_.It had never been so easy to kill with just the simple twist of a hand. _It's not true. None of this is true. _

He didn't even realise he had his hand raised to his mother, the person who had brought him up and loved him all these years. She had once called him her favourite. Now she could only scream in agony as a deep red line formed across her forehead and blood began to drip down her pale face. The ability controlled him. It made him angry. Everything made him angry. Her lies, her deceit had infuriated him. He could hardly hear the _real_ him screaming inside of him to stop.

Because he knew this wasn't what he was. He wasn't the villain. This wasn't what he wanted. He only ever wanted to be good. To be a good son, a good brother, a good boyfriend. To be a _good person._ But with each passing moment, he could feel the good inside of him slipping further and further away.

"Peter, did you do this?"

He looked down at his bloodied hands. Everything was a blur. But he could see his palms buried in red blood. The voice echoed through his burning mind.

"Peter…did you do this?"

He glanced up. A trail of red was painted across the white floor. Two bodies lay in front of him. Beaten and cut up. Covered in that blood red that both excited and scared him at the same time. Had he done this? Had he killed again? Destroyed instead of saving?

"Peter…"

The voice was frightened and for the first time in a long while, so was he. He saw her, staring up at him with horror. His mother. He raised his hands and the blood dripped to the floor. His breaths were short. His eyes glazed with terror. What had he done?

"Mom…" he felt himself sway, as if he were in a dream. His body was heavy, "What's happening to me? What have I done?"

She didn't answer. She ran without a second glance, her screams of horror echoing through the halls.

His eyes fell to something else. He saw his big brother, wide eyed and propped up against the wall. A deep wound scarred his head. The light from his eyes was faint.

"Nathan," he swallowed, bending down to his level and clutching him close, "Nathan, I'm sorry," tears soured down his cheeks, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

And for the first time in a long while, he felt human again. Not the villain and not the hero. He was just Peter Petrelli. A nurse from New York, a younger brother, a son.

Nathan didn't say a word. The room was silent, the only noise was the muffled cries from Peter whose face was buried in Nathan's bloodied hair.

He only ever wanted to help people.


End file.
